The Poetical Works of William Motherwell: With Memoir

Gardner, 1881 - 324 pagina's
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Pagina 19 - I've borne a weary lot ; But in my wanderings, far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart, Still travels on its way ; And channels deeper as it rins, The luve o' life's young day. O, dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sindered young, I've never seen your face, nor heard The music o...
Pagina xlv - And, ever and anon, he beat The doubling drum, with furious heat ; And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity, at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien, While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head.
Pagina 18 - Cheek touchin' cheek, loof lock'd in loof, What our wee heads could think ? When baith bent doun ower ae braid page, Wi' ae buik on our knee, Thy lips were on thy lesson, but My lesson was in thee. Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads, How cheeks brent red wi' shame, Whene'er the scule-weans, laughin" said, We cleek'd thegither hame ? And mind ye o...
Pagina 19 - In the silentness o' joy, till baith Wi' very gladness grat. Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison, Tears trinkled doun your cheek Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane Had ony power to speak ! That was a time, a blessed time, When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled — unsung ! I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi...
Pagina 21 - I'm sittin- on your knee, Willie, For the last time in my life, — A puir heart-broken thing, Willie, A mither, yet nae wife. Ay, press your hand upon my heart, And press it mair and mair, Or it will burst the silken twine, Sae strang is its despair.
Pagina xlv - ... by indulging some peculiar habits of thought, was eminently delighted with those flights of imagination which pass the bounds of nature, and to which the mind is reconciled only by a passive acquiescence in popular traditions. He loved fairies, genii, giants, and monsters ; he delighted to rove through the meanders of enchantment, to gaze on the magnificence of golden palaces, to repose by the water-falls of Elysian gardens.
Pagina 220 - ... of happy little bird ne'er broken was by me. I saw them in their curious nests, close couching, slyly peer With their wild eyes, like glittering beads, to note if harm were near; I passed them by, and blessed them all; I felt that it was good To leave unmoved the creatures small whose home was in the wood.
Pagina 17 - They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears, And sair and sick I pine, As memory idly summons up The blithe blinks o' langsyne. 'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel, 'Twas then we twa did part ; Sweet time — sad time! twa bairns at scule, Twa bairns, and but ae heart!
Pagina 98 - I'm proud to think That each pure joy-fount loved of yore I yet delight to drink ; Leaf, blossom, blade, hill, valley, stream, the calm, unclouded sky, Still mingle music with my dreams as in the days gone by.
Pagina 58 - THE WATER ! THE WATER ! TRE water ! the water ! The joyous brook for me, That tuneth, through the quiet night, Its ever-living glee. The water ! the water ! That sleepless, merry heart, Which gurgles on unstintedly, And loveth to impart To all around it some small measure Of its own most perfect pleasure. The water ! the water ! The gentle stream for me, That gushes from the old gray stone, Beside the alder tree.

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